Vanity Fair (100 page)

He was rather thinner than when we last saw him, but had gained in
majesty and solemnity of demeanour. He had resumed the mustachios to
which his services at Waterloo entitled him, and swaggered about on
deck in a magnificent velvet cap with a gold band and a profuse
ornamentation of pins and jewellery about his person. He took
breakfast in his cabin and dressed as solemnly to appear on the
quarter-deck as if he were going to turn out for Bond Street, or the
Course at Calcutta. He brought a native servant with him, who was
his valet and pipe-bearer and who wore the Sedley crest in silver on
his turban. That oriental menial had a wretched life under the
tyranny of Jos Sedley. Jos was as vain of his person as a woman,
and took as long a time at his toilette as any fading beauty. The
youngsters among the passengers, Young Chaffers of the 150th, and
poor little Ricketts, coming home after his third fever, used to
draw out Sedley at the cuddy-table and make him tell prodigious
stories about himself and his exploits against tigers and Napoleon.
He was great when he visited the Emperor's tomb at Longwood, when to
these gentlemen and the young officers of the ship, Major Dobbin not
being by, he described the whole battle of Waterloo and all but
announced that Napoleon never would have gone to Saint Helena at all
but for him, Jos Sedley.

After leaving St. Helena he became very generous, disposing of a
great quantity of ship stores, claret, preserved meats, and great
casks packed with soda-water, brought out for his private
delectation. There were no ladies on board; the Major gave the pas
of precedency to the civilian, so that he was the first dignitary at
table, and treated by Captain Bragg and the officers of the
Ramchunder with the respect which his rank warranted. He
disappeared rather in a panic during a two-days' gale, in which he
had the portholes of his cabin battened down, and remained in his
cot reading the Washerwoman of Finchley Common, left on board the
Ramchunder by the Right Honourable the Lady Emily Hornblower, wife
of the Rev. Silas Hornblower, when on their passage out to the
Cape, where the Reverend gentleman was a missionary; but, for common
reading, he had brought a stock of novels and plays which he lent to
the rest of the ship, and rendered himself agreeable to all by his
kindness and condescension.

Many and many a night as the ship was cutting through the roaring
dark sea, the moon and stars shining overhead and the bell singing
out the watch, Mr. Sedley and the Major would sit on the quarter-
deck of the vessel talking about home, as the Major smoked his
cheroot and the civilian puffed at the hookah which his servant
prepared for him.

In these conversations it was wonderful with what perseverance and
ingenuity Major Dobbin would manage to bring the talk round to the
subject of Amelia and her little boy. Jos, a little testy about his
father's misfortunes and unceremonious applications to him, was
soothed down by the Major, who pointed out the elder's ill fortunes
and old age. He would not perhaps like to live with the old couple,
whose ways and hours might not agree with those of a younger man,
accustomed to different society (Jos bowed at this compliment); but,
the Major pointed out, how advantageous it would be for Jos Sedley
to have a house of his own in London, and not a mere bachelor's
establishment as before; how his sister Amelia would be the very
person to preside over it; how elegant, how gentle she was, and of
what refined good manners. He recounted stories of the success
which Mrs. George Osborne had had in former days at Brussels, and in
London, where she was much admired by people of very great fashion;
and he then hinted how becoming it would be for Jos to send Georgy
to a good school and make a man of him, for his mother and her
parents would be sure to spoil him. In a word, this artful Major
made the civilian promise to take charge of Amelia and her
unprotected child. He did not know as yet what events had happened
in the little Sedley family, and how death had removed the mother,
and riches had carried off George from Amelia. But the fact is that
every day and always, this love-smitten and middle-aged gentleman
was thinking about Mrs. Osborne, and his whole heart was bent upon
doing her good. He coaxed, wheedled, cajoled, and complimented Jos
Sedley with a perseverance and cordiality of which he was not aware
himself, very likely; but some men who have unmarried sisters or
daughters even, may remember how uncommonly agreeable gentlemen are
to the male relations when they are courting the females; and
perhaps this rogue of a Dobbin was urged by a similar hypocrisy.

The truth is, when Major Dobbin came on board the Ramchumder, very
sick, and for the three days she lay in the Madras Roads, he did not
begin to rally, nor did even the appearance and recognition of his
old acquaintance, Mr. Sedley, on board much cheer him, until after a
conversation which they had one day, as the Major was laid languidly
on the deck. He said then he thought he was doomed; he had left a
little something to his godson in his will, and he trusted Mrs.
Osborne would remember him kindly and be happy in the marriage she
was about to make. "Married? not the least," Jos answered; "he had
heard from her: she made no mention of the marriage, and by the
way, it was curious, she wrote to say that Major Dobbin was going to
be married, and hoped that HE would be happy." What were the dates
of Sedley's letters from Europe? The civilian fetched them. They
were two months later than the Major's; and the ship's surgeon
congratulated himself upon the treatment adopted by him towards his
new patient, who had been consigned to shipboard by the Madras
practitioner with very small hopes indeed; for, from that day, the
very day that he changed the draught, Major Dobbin began to mend.
And thus it was that deserving officer, Captain Kirk, was
disappointed of his majority.

After they passed St. Helena, Major Dobbin's gaiety and strength
was such as to astonish all his fellow passengers. He larked with
the midshipmen, played single-stick with the mates, ran up the
shrouds like a boy, sang a comic song one night to the amusement of
the whole party assembled over their grog after supper, and rendered
himself so gay, lively, and amiable that even Captain Bragg, who
thought there was nothing in his passenger, and considered he was a
poor-spirited feller at first, was constrained to own that the Major
was a reserved but well-informed and meritorious officer. "He ain't
got distangy manners, dammy," Bragg observed to his first mate; "he
wouldn't do at Government House, Roper, where his Lordship and Lady
William was as kind to me, and shook hands with me before the whole
company, and asking me at dinner to take beer with him, before the
Commander-in-Chief himself; he ain't got manners, but there's
something about him—" And thus Captain Bragg showed that he
possessed discrimination as a man, as well as ability as a
commander.

But a calm taking place when the Ramchunder was within ten days'
sail of England, Dobbin became so impatient and ill-humoured as to
surprise those comrades who had before admired his vivacity and good
temper. He did not recover until the breeze sprang up again, and was
in a highly excited state when the pilot came on board. Good God,
how his heart beat as the two friendly spires of Southampton came in
sight.

Our Friend the Major

Our Major had rendered himself so popular on board the Ramchunder
that when he and Mr. Sedley descended into the welcome shore-boat
which was to take them from the ship, the whole crew, men and
officers, the great Captain Bragg himself leading off, gave three
cheers for Major Dobbin, who blushed very much and ducked his head
in token of thanks. Jos, who very likely thought the cheers were
for himself, took off his gold-laced cap and waved it majestically
to his friends, and they were pulled to shore and landed with great
dignity at the pier, whence they proceeded to the Royal George
Hotel.

Although the sight of that magnificent round of beef, and the silver
tankard suggestive of real British home-brewed ale and porter, which
perennially greet the eyes of the traveller returning from foreign
parts who enters the coffee-room of the George, are so invigorating
and delightful that a man entering such a comfortable snug homely
English inn might well like to stop some days there, yet Dobbin
began to talk about a post-chaise instantly, and was no sooner at
Southampton than he wished to be on the road to London. Jos,
however, would not hear of moving that evening. Why was he to pass
a night in a post-chaise instead of a great large undulating downy
feather-bed which was there ready to replace the horrid little
narrow crib in which the portly Bengal gentleman had been confined
during the voyage? He could not think of moving till his baggage was
cleared, or of travelling until he could do so with his chillum. So
the Major was forced to wait over that night, and dispatched a
letter to his family announcing his arrival, entreating from Jos a
promise to write to his own friends. Jos promised, but didn't keep
his promise. The Captain, the surgeon, and one or two passengers
came and dined with our two gentlemen at the inn, Jos exerting
himself in a sumptuous way in ordering the dinner and promising to
go to town the next day with the Major. The landlord said it did his
eyes good to see Mr. Sedley take off his first pint of porter. If I
had time and dared to enter into digressions, I would write a
chapter about that first pint of porter drunk upon English ground.
Ah, how good it is! It is worth-while to leave home for a year,
just to enjoy that one draught.

Major Dobbin made his appearance the next morning very neatly shaved
and dressed, according to his wont. Indeed, it was so early in the
morning that nobody was up in the house except that wonderful Boots
of an inn who never seems to want sleep; and the Major could hear
the snores of the various inmates of the house roaring through the
corridors as he creaked about in those dim passages. Then the
sleepless Boots went shirking round from door to door, gathering up
at each the Bluchers, Wellingtons, Oxonians, which stood outside.
Then Jos's native servant arose and began to get ready his master's
ponderous dressing apparatus and prepare his hookah; then the
maidservants got up, and meeting the dark man in the passages,
shrieked, and mistook him for the devil. He and Dobbin stumbled
over their pails in the passages as they were scouring the decks of
the Royal George. When the first unshorn waiter appeared and
unbarred the door of the inn, the Major thought that the time for
departure was arrived, and ordered a post-chaise to be fetched
instantly, that they might set off.

He then directed his steps to Mr. Sedley's room and opened the
curtains of the great large family bed wherein Mr. Jos was snoring.
"Come, up! Sedley," the Major said, "it's time to be off; the
chaise will be at the door in half an hour."

Jos growled from under the counterpane to know what the time was;
but when he at last extorted from the blushing Major (who never told
fibs, however they might be to his advantage) what was the real hour
of the morning, he broke out into a volley of bad language, which we
will not repeat here, but by which he gave Dobbin to understand that
he would jeopardy his soul if he got up at that moment, that the
Major might go and be hanged, that he would not travel with Dobbin,
and that it was most unkind and ungentlemanlike to disturb a man out
of his sleep in that way; on which the discomfited Major was obliged
to retreat, leaving Jos to resume his interrupted slumbers.

The chaise came up presently, and the Major would wait no longer.

If he had been an English nobleman travelling on a pleasure tour, or
a newspaper courier bearing dispatches (government messages are
generally carried much more quietly), he could not have travelled
more quickly. The post-boys wondered at the fees he flung amongst
them. How happy and green the country looked as the chaise whirled
rapidly from mile-stone to mile-stone, through neat country towns
where landlords came out to welcome him with smiles and bows; by
pretty roadside inns, where the signs hung on the elms, and horses
and waggoners were drinking under the chequered shadow of the trees;
by old halls and parks; rustic hamlets clustered round ancient grey
churches—and through the charming friendly English landscape. Is
there any in the world like it? To a traveller returning home it
looks so kind—it seems to shake hands with you as you pass through
it. Well, Major Dobbin passed through all this from Southampton to
London, and without noting much beyond the milestones along the
road. You see he was so eager to see his parents at Camberwell.

He grudged the time lost between Piccadilly and his old haunt at the
Slaughters', whither he drove faithfully. Long years had passed
since he saw it last, since he and George, as young men, had enjoyed
many a feast, and held many a revel there. He had now passed into
the stage of old-fellow-hood. His hair was grizzled, and many a
passion and feeling of his youth had grown grey in that interval.
There, however, stood the old waiter at the door, in the same greasy
black suit, with the same double chin and flaccid face, with the
same huge bunch of seals at his fob, rattling his money in his
pockets as before, and receiving the Major as if he had gone away
only a week ago. "Put the Major's things in twenty-three, that's
his room," John said, exhibiting not the least surprise. "Roast
fowl for your dinner, I suppose. You ain't got married? They said
you was married—the Scotch surgeon of yours was here. No, it was
Captain Humby of the thirty-third, as was quartered with the —th in
Injee. Like any warm water? What do you come in a chay for—ain't
the coach good enough?" And with this, the faithful waiter, who knew
and remembered every officer who used the house, and with whom ten
years were but as yesterday, led the way up to Dobbin's old room,
where stood the great moreen bed, and the shabby carpet, a thought
more dingy, and all the old black furniture covered with faded
chintz, just as the Major recollected them in his youth.